


Really, He Should Have Seen This Coming

by Macka2360, qzqz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Derek is a Failwolf, M/M, Not Beta Read, Werewolf Hales, first fanfic, laura and cora are evil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macka2360/pseuds/Macka2360, https://archiveofourown.org/users/qzqz/pseuds/qzqz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>derek sees stiles at a grocery store, stiles hears the squeal of tires and a camaro flashing through the rain. sex follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's been a while

**Author's Note:**

> so this is unbeta'd but if anyone likes it enough, ill try to make it better. This is my first fanfic and i hope its good. Any suggestions and critiques are welcome.
> 
> love court

It was a raining night in July when Derek first laid eyes upon him. The light of the grocery store was bright and blinding in the darkness to his werewolf senses as the rain continued on its way down around him, pattering loudly around him as he stayed frozen on the spot. Two things became immediately obvious to him: one, Laura was going to have a field day with this when she found out, and two: he was incredibly screwed. The scent lingered on the air – paper and apple – as Derek watched as a young man bent over the fruit section, fumbling around in a way that was in no way graceful, yet he stared.  
The young man’s shirt rode up at one point, exposing his midriff to the cool night air, and Derek’s position unlocked. Without a second glance to the grocery store, or the faceless form he had seen, he dropped his environmentally friendly shopping bags (fucking Cora) and slammed into his Camaro. With one feverish hand on the outline of his dick, Derek manoeuvred the car and left the store in a squeal of tires, hurrying to return home to his soundproofed room.

Needless to say, he didn’t quite make it. Pulling over once near the woods, Derek shoved his cold hand into his jeans and pulled free his erection. The angle was awkward, but he was desperate; thoughts of the unknown man’s wet mouth around him and of his back flush against Derek’s stomach as he rode him wildly. It took four quick and unco-ordinated jerks and he was coming, all over a tree (he was sure Laura would have a field day over this). As soon as he was done, he zipped himself back up and drove home, hoping his werewolf abilities wouldn’t showcase themselves in another erection until he was in the safety of his own room. 

As soon as he parked in the makeshift garage (Cora had required the actual garage for her “intriguing designs and philosophies”. In reality, she was an artist), Derek smelt Laura.   
“Where are the-” Laura cut off as she deliberately scented the air, a wicked grin sliding onto her face as the clear smell of Derek’s loss of control became evident. He wasn’t one to lose control often and Laura was happy that someone had finally made him crack.

“So, baby brother, who is she? Or he?”

“No one” Derek bit out with an ineffectual glare.

“Did you guys bang?”

“Laura, no, for god’s sake I only saw the back of him.”

This furthered the smile on Laura’s face as she realised this man with the amazing ability of getting Derek to lose control, had only done so with his back. Huh, talented dude.

“Have we finished with the interrogation?”

“Never, my favourite brother” (“I’m your only brother”) “but I suppose you can retreat to your room for more jerkoff sessions…but I’m telling Cora” Derek’s hopeful look at being allowed to go to his room died a painful death at the thought of Cora’s future onslaught. She was 5’1” and his baby sister, but she was vicious at getting answers.

“Yeah, whatever Law, I’m going to sleep”

“Suuuuurrreee you are”

Derek huffed his disapproval, but walked around her and into the house, his gaze drawn to the tiny claw marks on the bannister of the staircase like it usually did – god Cora had been cute before she turned into a menace.   
His bedroom was on the third floor, not that it could really be called a floor – it was the attic. Derek liked the arching windows that made sunlight streak across the room. He had like it so much, in fact, that he had placed his king mattress right below it, waking up by the sun. He especially liked the thunder storms, watching through the windows as lightning streaked through the sky. Instead of going towards his bed and sleeping however, he made his way towards the barely cordoned off bathroom, shrugging his clothes as he went until he stood naked, once again hard, before the shower doors.  
Derek was a werewolf. He liked comfort, it was simple, that’s the only reason his shower had multiple shower heads and could fit his mattress in it. It was custom made and the odd looks of the custom shower workers still embarrassed Derek to this day. He just liked comfort.

Derek turned the water on hot and stepped onto the cool tiles of the shower, waiting until it heated up. As he waited, he grabbed some shower gel (it would suffice and he’d used it before so no problem right?) and smoothed it over his length, revelling in the feel of the gel on his skin. He slowly moved his hand up and down, the other hand on his nipple. It was going fine and pleasant until he realised the heat of his erection was at slightly elevated levels. It started to burn.  
Shocked and a bit confused, Derek hastily washed the gel off, the burn getting worse the longer the evil goo was on his skin. Picking up the container of gel, he opened up the cap and saw the white petals of mistletoe. Fucking Laura and Cora were demons. He knew as well as they that the amount of mistletoe petals in the gel would only produce a small burning sensation on sensitive skin. The devils meddled too much.

Derek shut off the shower, and marched angrily to his bed, not caring to dry off. He squeezed himself under the covers and went to sleep, unsure whether he hated or loved his sisters, before thoughts of the unknown man entered his mind. His sleep wasn’t clean to say the least and he woke up questioning his life choices.


	2. Cause of Death: Amazing Mango Smoothie

Stiles was busy looking for the freshest mangoes the grocery store had that it took him sometime to feel the prickling of the back of his neck, signalling some primal instinct that he had been seen by a predator. Ignoring the oddly primeval thought, Stiles went back to his task at hand, finally emerging victorious with five succulent mangoes. His smoothies would taste amazing! He vowed to no one in particular. Just as the words left his lips he heard the screeching of tires and turned to peer out into the night as a black Camaro raced past leaving traces of burning rubber in the air. Stiles didn’t understand why some people took such bad care of their car’s tires. Honestly.

As he paid for his mangoes, plus a handful of bananas, Stiles’ mind was quickly moving onto new subjects, such as “what the hell and I going to do about College, I’m dying under the stress of the exams someone kill me quick before the deadliiiiiiinnee” The last word was extended in his mind, as the internal babble came to a slow stop as he realised he was being served by a portly woman. He paid and only when he was on his way home did he realised the prickling sensation on his neck had stopped with the Camaro racing away. Huh.

The next morning, Stiles knew a couple of things. One: his alarm wasn’t going to spontaneously combust, two: Scott needed to learn to sing if he was going to be that loud in the shower, and three: he had a smoothie to make.

Cutting up the bananas and mangoes, Stiles added some vanilla ice-cream and mango yogurt into his and Scott’s shared Thermomix, a device that had extremely sharp blades and could apparently cook anything. Stiles was dubious, but hey, Melissa had given it as a house warming gift and it made good smoothies. He wasn’t going to complain. Adding some vanilla extract and a small amount of milk, Stiles whizzed up his concoction for a couple of seconds, before pouring out half of the delicious mixture into his massive cup. He added some protein powder for Scott, whizzed it again, and poured the rest into Scott’s glass – they had a routine, Scott would sing badly and cook like a god, and Stiles would make amazing smoothies and leave his clothes everywhere. A tradition for the ages, they joked.

Setting down Scott’s glass, Stiles slowly sipped at his own whilst going over the college notices, only two really pertained to him:  
\- Substitute professor for Mythos through the Ages  
\- Vending machine graffiti causes closures until cleaned

Stiles didn’t really care about the sub, it was just a class he took for fun, like his sign language class. His Deaf friends sometimes couldn’t understand him as his hands ran faster than his mouth and some of his Signs were obliterated, but the flow of the movements relaxed him, and he loved the cheeky nature of his friends who knew no one else could see what they were saying. It became like a game to them.  
Step One was get Stiles’ attention.  
Step Two to make Stiles blush or stutter.  
He had no idea why they liked to torture him, all he knew was that he always came out of it mortified, with Erica then kissing his cheek and sauntering away, half in conversation to Boyd, and half to Isaac. It was home and he loved them. 

The stressful part of the notice, however, was the vending machine closures (seriously who graffiti’s vending machines? Who would want to hurt him in this way, the machines were his lifeline to candy, selfish bastards). Stiles lived off the candy stored in the machines, and was unsure if he would ever survive this development. He voiced as much to Scott, who just said to “stop being so dramatic I can feel it effecting my muscles” as if his muscles – or attempts at muscles – was the only reason Allison stayed with him. Idiot.

Stiles got ready for his morning run with the ease of repetition and left with a small wave at the lady next door, an ageing sweetheart named Roza. She was tough as tempered Steel from her Russian upbringing, but she was a gorgeous person, sharing her recipes for cookies, scones, pudding and anything else as soon as Stiles even so much hinted in the direction.  
His routine run took him through town, past the grocery store where streaks of rubber were seen, and the library, where he had confessed his crush to Lydia at 15, before being promptly rejected with the chance that, if he asked nicely, she would consider being his friend - which she is, and all the way down to the edges of the woods. Stiles stared at the creepy mess of trees before heading back to his and Scott's apartment to get ready for class.


End file.
